Forgive Me
by xakemii
Summary: He tried to strangle her, she finds it difficult to forgive him. One-shot, based on the song "The Flag" by Barenaked Ladies.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Was based on the song "The Flag" by Barenaked Ladies.**

**Author's Note: Non-Magical. **

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I lay wide-awake, thinking of what had happened last night. He had had a few too many drinks that was obvious. I had gone up to him, hoping to stop him. I raised my hand, gently rubbing his shoulder. I stayed like that for ten minutes, till he finally turned around, noticing me there. I smiled, trying to look seductive, in hopes that he would abandon the drink in his hand. It worked, in some ways. He had dropped his hand from his glass, but instead gripped my neck. I gasped as his fingers tightened against my bare skin. A pathetic scream for help had escaped my lips, and it wasn't soon before he had been ripped away from me. My scream quietened, though more sounded from the people around me. Those frightened screams had been the last thing I heard before my world went black.

The phone beside my bed rings, pulling me from my thoughts. I grimaced. It had been a present from one of my muggle-born friends. I reach out, bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hello," I whisper. The trauma still hasn't left me. Why do people insist on calling? I don't want to talk.

"I'm sorry." The voice I had been trying so hard to push away from my memory sounds. I'm disgusted. I could have died. I could have been murdered. Why does everyone assume that a simple word, sorry, can fix everything? I wait as he continues. "We have to talk."

I'm sure that I can feel my mouth dropping in shock. We have to talk. A classic break-up line. Did he really think I still loved him, after last night? I'm sure I'm not being dramatic when I say that I would rather not date the man who had almost strangled me.

"No we don't." I can't find a reason why we should talk. I don't want to talk. I want to scream. I want to cry. I'm not sure what I want, but talking, I know for sure is something I don't want to do. I hang up, cutting of his murmurs of apologies. He makes me sick. My wish is granted, and I cry myself to sleep.

My day goes by slowly. I stay inside. The weather is good, the sun beaming, but that's not what I want. The warmth and sunshine contradicts every thought running through my mind.

"Alicia!" A banging on the door makes me grit my teeth. I could recognize that voice anywhere, unfortunately. I'm beside myself, and the tears fall faster than ever. Why did he have to come here? My house. I thought I was safe. Despite the gut feeling in my stomach telling me not to, I open the door. He falls to his knees, pleading with his eyes. My knees weaken. How did he do this to me? I don't want to love him. I don't want to need him. I want to be strong, independent. I don't need a man to complete me. I hope I don't.

"Go away!" I scream into his face, not phasing as my eyes drift upon his sad almost hurt expression.

"Alicia," he whimpers, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Just let me explain."

I snarl, ripping my shoulder on his grasp. It only reminds me of that night, when my hand had caressed his shoulder. I don't need his explanation. I need to end it. Even now I find it hard to look into his eyes. He jumps into a stream of apologies; perhaps they are similar to the ones he had attempted last night. I ignore them, refusing to let myself become interested. I can't be interested. He'll captivate me, like he did before.

"Sorry." This one word snaps me back to attention. What is wrong with him? Thinking he can have me back with just one pathetic word.

"It's over." They are the only two words that seem to sum up everything I want to tell him. How could he do this to me? There was a time when I could have sworn that I loved him.

"Alicia," he begs. "I'm so sorry, I was drunk!" Drunk. How nice it must be to think that everything is okay, so long as you were drunk doing whatever it was. I roll my eyes, wondering if he really means it. He can't. You don't try and strangle your girlfriend. I don't want to live the rest of my life having him cast this shadow over me.

"It's over." It kills me to say it. It hurts. I don't want to say it. Maybe I should take it back. I don't. I'm having a war with myself. I love him. I don't love him. It's like I'm picking petals from daisies, like I did when I was little girl. His face is crestfallen, and just like my own; his cheeks are stained with tears. I watch as he opens his mouth again, and cut him off. "Leave."

He leaves. I didn't think he would. I hate that he did. Why did he leave me? Surely he could have seen through my words. I hate him for leaving. I'm alone now. No one has called. I suppose I should be pleased. Only last night I was cursing each time the phone rang; now it doesn't. A few seconds ago I was asking him to leave, and now he has. So how come I feel so bad? He tried to strangle me. He was drunk. Why do these two sentences seem so terrible? He was drunk. He was drunk! He was drunk, for Merlin's sake. Why can't I process that? He didn't know. It wasn't his fault. I feel terrible. Crying seems so trivial. What use are tears now?

My eyes drift. Three objects capture my attentions. A hook, a ribbon, and a stool. A ribbon. I finger it gently. Never had it crossed my mind how terrible a beautiful object could be. I shift the stool, and then stand on it. The hook is above me now. My fingers fumble as I connect the hook with myself, using the ribbon as a bridge. I tie a knot. This is the solution. He will never hurt me again.

"I love you, Oliver Wood," I whisper. Then I kick the stool, letting darkness engulf me.

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**I know the ribbon isn't very realistic, however, I hope you liked it.**


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